Escape from Pautrel- A Star Wars Adventure
by Unumaginative
Summary: Follow Rebel Scout Hasker Torellian through the Battle of Pautrel. Outnumbered and outmatched, can the rebels survive an assault from the Empire's elite Green Legion? Will their secret weapon turn the tide of the Galactic Civil War? Set between ANH and ESB. New Canon derived.


**Escape from Pautrel**

 **By: Craig Wallace**

 **April 29, 2018**

 **1**

"This thing is heavier than I remember," Hasker Torellian said to himself, hefting the weight of the MGMAV onto his shoulder. In training, it felt like Haz could carry it forever, employ it, and scurry off without even losing his breath, but after weeks on this planet, wherever it was, the missile unit was getting heavier. He was among the first to carry the 18.6 kilo Multiple Target Ground Mobile Anti-Vehicle Missile Set into combat anywhere in the galaxy. The certain pride he felt in that had worn off after the first foot patrol across the scree-covered slopes.

Not that he had trouble moving across restrictive and loose footed terrain. In fact, he preferred it to the sanitized and flat duracrete spread across 'civilized' worlds. Usually, the mark of civilization meant that the Empire was not far behind.

The world he had grown up on was a hot, steamy, jungle planet, known for its harsh vegetation and harsher inhabitants. Millennia of inter-tribal warfare had led to the Onderonians1 taking refuge in compact, fortified cities. Mostly inaccessible, except to adventurous rangers, these cities mimicked the rest of the world, with riotous splashes of humanity conforming to and copying the patterns of the surrounding jungle. To be raised there meant to be tough and independent, especially when an outsider was becoming aggressive.

"Remember Haz, help your brother before your cousin, your cousin before your tribesman, your tribesman before an offworlder," his father would repeat, often in an almost mantra-like fashion. It made sense, especially when the offworlders were attempting to bend the Onderonians to their will, conscript the best fighters to their armies, and seize the best lands for clearance and alien fruit cultivation.

While not exactly tribesmen, those fighters that opposed this Empire were brothers in arms, and after his father was killed by the Empire during a raid outside of his home city, Haz was free to join his new brothers. These brothers wasted no time in taking Haz offworld to a training base on Ord Radama2. As part of the 22nd Infantry Division2, Haz had distinguished himself by applying lessons learned from his father's mantra as well as Orderon Ranger techniques. He was still in training at a base he only knew as TB-3847 when the Death Star battle station attacked the neighboring Yavin solar system, only to lose to his new brothers, the Rebel Alliance.

After this, events moved quickly. The 22nd Division evacuated TB-3847, wherever it truly was, just before an Imperial strike force leveled the base in retaliation for the loss of the Death Star. Haz was also transferred to the 73rd Combat Reconnaissance Troop considering his advanced ranging abilities. Although still a green recruit, Haz's native intelligence and cool application of common sense meant that he was often singled out for some of the more undesirable, yet highly important tasks in the troop. One of these tasks brought him to his current situation, with the box and tube of the MGMAV resting heavily on his shoulder.

"It must be the lack of food," he thought, "or maybe the quality, or lack thereof, of what we have been getting. Or sleep. Maybe a combo of the three."

That must be it, he decided. Even Traynor, the toughest, oldest, and most obstinate ground war veteran was beginning to move more slowly.

"Snap to it! Here they come." The voice of his squad leader brought Haz back to the present. Unfolding the telescopic bipod from the missile's launch tube and firmly planting it into the stone ground, the weight on his right shoulder felt significantly reduced.

Looking through the holo-sight, he could see the multiple aerial targets being automatically illuminated with green circles. Slowly, some of the circles turned yellow, then red, as other MGMAV operators designated targets. The linked system of the MGMAV was the innovation that required even the experienced ground war troopers in his class to need specialized training. The system link ensured that one target wouldn't be hit by several missiles, thereby wasting ammunition. When a scoped target had a green circle around it, that meant it was identified by the Central Command System. When an individual command unit was acquiring a target, the CCS turned that circle yellow to keep others from wasting time and double targeting it. A red circle meant a missile was locked in a ready to fire. Blue meant a missile was fired and on the way.

"No blue targets yet," he whispered, reminding himself of the order to hold fire.

"Better not be, or we're all dead," yelled the Twi'lek female corporal from F squad. The missile operators, all seven of them, were to volley fire. The Empire would have a surprise when seven of their heavily armored landers went down in an instant, with little time to turn before a second volley could be launched. If someone got antsy and fired early, the Empire would hold out of range while the orbiting Star Destroyers pounded the origin of the shot.

"No way she could have heard me from here," he said to Merlo.

"Don't worry about that nut, Haz," he responded, "just paint a target and lock in a secondary for the next round."

It was sound advice. The Imperial landers were almost within missile firing range. The Command units allowed for a target to be designated inside 275 km. Missile range was only 100 km, though, giving plenty of room for a jumpy operator to give up the troop's location.

The MGMAV was an improved version of the Merr-Sonn PLX-2 Portable Missile Launcher3, although it failed to carry the PLX moniker because it was a stolen plan copied by Alliance manufacturers. The original PLX-2 system had a magazine of missiles and integral repulsorlift to make transport easier, but the sights were rudimentary and the missile's munitions comparitively weak. The MGMAV sacrificed the repulsorlift and magazine for a greater warhead size and a much more sophisticated sighting and tracking system. The MGMAV was made up of two separate parts, the command launch unit, or CLU, which held the targeting sensors and communications sensors, and the missile launch tube. It allowed the entire unit to be broken down into more portable sections while in transport in theory, but in practice, the entire system was heaped on the poor soul that knew how to use it.

The SFS-204 ion engines installed in Sienar Fleet System's _Lambda Class T-4c Combat Landing Shuttles4_ would allow the targeting distance to be traversed in moments. The 'c' version of the Lambda looked little like the T-4a Lambda shuttle4 on which it was based, with the truncated stabilizers in place of the T-4a's three large folding wings. It was also several meters longer and two meters wider to allow a much larger troop capacity, 50, instead of the standard Lambda's 20. The greater armoring installed on the cockpit was still no trouble for the new MGMAV's armament, however.

Locking onto a green target located near the rear of the formation, Haz clicked his right thumb to designate his target. He had hesitated too long to select one of the formation leaders, the fat, prestige targets that the others had taken first, so a target in the rear was the next best thing.

The training course brought together ground combat specialists from the Alliance's units spread across the galaxy. The combined decades of combat experience helped write the tactical employment manual for the use of the MGMAV. In aerial standoff, wing leaders should be targeted, followed by rear-most vehicles, they had jointly decided, as that is where enemy VIP's and higher echelon commanders and observers normally flew. Knocking off an Imperial Fleet Officer in the opening volley would be a major coup for Alliance morale.

Ground target standoff was simpler.

"Just find the biggest, meanest looking weapon pointed at us, and let 'er rip," the training staff had told the trainees.

As the Lambda landers came closer, they began to reduce in speed, readying for an efficient combat infiltration.

"Get ready," echoed Captain Briggs' voice through a dozen different communicators. "When the trailing designated target is in range, open fire!"

The last words of his directive seemed to stir something in the collective soul of the 73rd CRT, because almost to a trooper, everyone began to stir. The 73rd was made up of veterans at this point but receiving a head-on assault of Stormtroopers was still a worrying affair.

Captain Briggs had only weeks before been Lieutenant Briggs. His promotion came as promotions often do in war, with the death of his predecessor. He knew the troopers and the troopers knew him; at least knew his fighting ability. The troops were unsure even of his given name; odds were 5: 1 in favor of it being Crix at this point, but with new Rebel heroes on the rise, the names Luke and Han were now in the running. This would be Briggs' first battle as troop commander.

Haz stole a glance at Traynor, the old man of the troop, although he was probably still only 28 standard years of age. Traynor coolly stared down the sight of his A280 Blaster Rifle5, waiting for his chance to snap to action. Traynor had seen more action than anyone, joining the rebellion sometime long before the Death Star had been destroyed. Rumor had it that he had been on _Tantive IV6_ as extra security for the Princess and escaped an Imperial prison ship before returning to the Rebellion, but Haz didn't believe that. What he did believe was when he saw Traynor take out a scout walker alone with a well-placed thermal detonator on Haz's first action as part of the 73rd. And he did believe when he saw Traynor move across three trench lines, firing wildly, to destroy an E-Web7 emplacement that had the rest of Haz and his recon team pinned down.

Haz was as much a veteran now as Traynor had been then, but he still felt insignificant to the older man. Almost the rest of the squad did too. Corporal Merlo joined up the same time as Haz, but had the leadership quality that got him promoted to team leader faster. Traynor was a lone wolf, a fighter, not a leader, and everyone agreed it was better that way.

Traynor Saxan's upbringing was much more subdued than Haz's. Raised on Corellia8 in an upper middle-class family, Traynor attended the high-quality schools and universities the Corellian System had to offer. His sense of military accomplishment was pure Corellian, where bravery and military prowess served as a greater measure of humanity than wealth or education.

Traynor's great troubles with the Empire came directly from this Corellian spirit. When the Empire took Corellia, it imported thousands of Stormtroopers to secure the system, a position formerly provided by the local CorSec9 force. This was an unforgivable slap in Corellia's collective face, one that ensured countless Corellians would join the Rebellion, the local resistance, or become pirates and smugglers.

But now came the largest Imperial ground assault group even Traynor had seen.

Haz lightly fingered the safety switch, and when he saw the wing leaders cross the missile's range threshold, he flicked it off, ready to blast his targets.

"Stand by!" shouted someone, probably Jopton the jumpy troop Sergeant Major. How he had reached the top advisory spot was unclear. Maybe he had seen too much action, but whatever the reason, he was far past due to be rotated from field duty.

"Stand by," squawked the communicators again in the Captain's voice, "Stand by."

"Fire!"

Simultaneously, seven jets of flame blasted from the sunken road bed the troops had taken cover in. Loose rocks were blasted backwards almost as fast as the missiles launched forward, announcing their position with a wide plume of dust.

"Reload, fire at will," commanded Captain Briggs over the comm units. "Await ground assault and prepare to displace."

Haz, in a well-trained and long-practiced movement slid the CLU forward from his shoulder, allowing the bipod to support the weight of the entire MGMAV. With the launcher's rear pointed directly skyward, Haz pulled a new missile from the safety case in his bag, and in almost one single movement rammed the missile home into the launch tube, grabbed the control unit, re-shouldered the MGMAV, and pulled the safety and firing triggers, sending the next missile into his pre-programmed secondary target.

"Why aren't we able to program more than two targets into the command unit?" Haz asked once during training.

"Because on dry planets, they'll find you from the dust plumes. In wet planets, they'll find you from the steam when the rockets superheat the ground in front of you. Either way, staying static for more than two shots is suicide, so the programmers didn't even give you that option," the instructor had answered.

Now, on the business end of an actual assault, Haz saw what she had meant. There was a distinct halo surrounding their position, the effects of the early morning sun on the dust plume.

"Displace!" a voice, now Haz was certain it was the Sergeant Major, shouted repeatedly, as if anyone wanted to stay there a second longer. He was definitely wound too tight to be in the field any longer.

"Displace, move to the other side of the ridge," the cooler voice of Captain Briggs stated over the communicators.

"I hate running without having fired my blaster even once," complained Traynor.

"You'll get your chance soon enough, just look," replied Sergeant Yirgen.

Barely, through the dust cloud, the troop could make out seven small fireballs in the distance. The first salvo hit home with some serious ferocity, and seconds later, the pressurized but almost silent thump of the explosions reached the position.

"Allright, that'll do," smiled Traynor. He barely had time to finish the sentence when the second volley hit the attackers. The extra training Sergeant Major Jopton forced the MGMAV operators to do had paid off. The second salvo was less than fifteen seconds behind the first, well within the threshold of success. Seven more fireballs, much closer this time, were followed by a much more distinct crump of heavy explosions.

Collapsing the bipod, Haz hoisted the the MGMAV's now separate command unit into the carry position on his bag and bent over to sling the missile launch tube.

"Beautiful shooting!" Cheered Merlo, almost drowned out by the sound of three dozen other voices cheering in unison.

"I didn't do anything," explained Haz, "I'm just a meatbag that pointed a pipe. That command unit did the real work."

"Enough chatter," said Sergeant Yirgen, "The rest of the assault wave is still on the way."

A quick glance over his shoulder showed the Sergeant was right. Haz could see at least two dozen other shuttles, the first of which was now landing at the base of the ridge. Normally, the Empire would brashly land the combat shuttles within blaster shot, covering the exiting Stormtroopers with the cannon mounted on the upper stabilizer.

The landing ramps under the nose of the shuttles extended, disgorging what remained of whatever legion this was. The small white figures bobbed and weaved around the larger rocks at the base of the ridge and several had lost their footing on the loose scree.

Haz often had wondered how difficult it was to see while wearing that helmet or walk in all that constricting armor. Rebel Alliance soldiers focused more on stealth and cunning, knowing there were far fewer of them should one fall. It was also far more difficult to recruit a willing rebel if the outcome was certain death. If the Alliance treated its troops as badly as the Empire, then what would be the point of overthrowing the Empire in favor of the Alliance?

The Empire focused its assaults on brute force, and Haz could see the stormtroopers beginning to ascend the long ridge.

"So, the missile volley did its job," thought Haz. He realized that this was probably the last time it would work, because the Empire was quick to change its ground assault tactics when the Alliance had something new up its sleeve.

Still, it was a comforting thought as he scrambled over the backside of the ridge with the rest of his troop.

 **2**

"I knew something was wrong," said Commander Reymun Solo to no one in particular.

Watching a wave of white clad Stormtroopers, part of his 2nd Regiment of Foot, was normally a comforting sight, but this time, it was sickening, considering the thinness of the line.

"What did they hit us with, Lieutenant?" Asked Solo.

"No idea, sir," responded the Intelligence Officer, assigned as part of Solo's Green Legion command staff. "Whatever it was definitely was powerful."

Obviously, The Intelligence Officer was lacking in intelligence. Solo looked at him contemptuously.

"Of course, I could certainly find out what weapon they used, sir," said the Intel Officer.

"Yes, why don't you," remarked Solo, almost sarcastically.

The quality of officers had certainly gone downhill since after the Death Star took the lives of the cream of the Imperial Officer Corps. Hundreds of thousands of officers gone in a flash. Retribution had been swift, however. A collected fleet of Star Destroyers10, including Solo's station ship, the _Dauntless,_ traveled in fleet formation to each known Rebel outpost or base and pounded them from orbit until no life form readings registered.

Dozens of bases were hit, some with thousands of inhabitants, some with absolutely none, simply to deny the base to the rebels in the future. The majority of the bases were empty, which Solo was told by his Intelligence staff much to his dismay, was due to leaks in the Imperial Intelligence Service.

Solo lost seven of his young Intelligence Officers to the following purges by Imperial Security Bureau11. Four were executed as traitors, and three were promoted to ISB.

"ISB stole my best officers," he thought at the time. Now, given the quality of intel leading to more effective legionary assaults, Solo was proud to have three of his staff in ISB. Some legionary commanders lost half of their support staffs just to executions. Those commanders often weren't long for the galaxy themselves, though, so it emphasized just how well Solo was performing his duties.

There was, however, the unfortunate fact that one of the rebel scum responsible for the Death Star destruction forever sullied the Solo family name. He thought the ISB Agents had been joking when they first called him to Coruscant to explain his relation but realized quickly Agents don't have senses of humor. There was, to his knowledge at least, absolutely no relation between the two men. He wasn't even from the same star system as that smuggler low-life. What he would give to catch that rebel and show him even an ounce of the pain inflicted upon him by the ISB.

"Commander Solo, we have almost reached the crest of the ridge," the communicator fitted into his ear canal told him, "and there is evidence of multiple missile launch sites. No sign of the missile launchers though."

"Strange," thought Solo, "missiles need frames and scaffolding to fire with any precision like what we saw."

"Good, Captain. Send a battlefield intelligence team to the sites to collect data. Anything we can find out will help us," answered Solo.

"Yessir, immediately, sir. Your advance company has reached the crest of the ridge now, sir, and is reporting seeing another fortified line of rebels along with the reconnaissance troops falling back. It must have been they that hit us in the air, sir," the Captain answered.

"But with what," imagined Solo, mentally cycling through weapons systems in his head like he was reading a datapad12. "Missile launch sites without launchers, accuracy beyond what we have ever seen before, and munitions strong enough at long range that could knock down even the superlative _Lambda T-4c_ 's."

The rebels could have gotten their hands on old stocks of PLX-1's and modified them, and they were also known to have captured stocks of HH-15 missile launchers, but both those sets were short-range. None of it made any sense to him. He would have to send a request to ISB for information, and hopefully they wouldn't classify the results at a level so high Solo couldn't access them.

As a ground commander, he should be given the highest access of classified documents, but the Empire didn't see the logic in such practice. The fewer that knew about anything meant less leaks to plug. Given the recent purges, Solo was beginning to understand that argument. Still, he had under his direct command a little under a full legion of Storm troopers8. Over ten thousand men under his direct control to enact his will, yet Solo was disgusted he didn't have the full trust of the Empire's secret keepers.

"New orders, sir?" Requested the Captain.

Looking to the top of the ridge, Solo could see the Captain in the distance, the only white-armored figure facing him.

"Yes. Traverse the ridge, Captain, and dig in on the far side. We will bring in walkers today, but we need to land them further than usual due to the apparent range of the rebel munition. It will take some time to transport them here. Begin sending reconnaissance squads forward to probe the line for weak spots in the meantime. Let me know if you find one."

"Of course, sir. Moving my company to position now."

It irritated Solo to think how much longer the assault on Pautrel would take than planned. The planetary system was wedged just outside Bothan Space13, making the likelihood of receiving reinforcements very low. The local celestial region was a hot zone, with many differing factions of the Rebel Alliance competing for primacy, not to mention the Empire finally making inroads to total pacification. Located so far from the main artery of the Corellian Run space lane, the Pautrel system had little civilization of which to speak. In fact, the only reason, Solo reminded himself, of Imperial entanglement on this planet was precisely because it was so far from everything that mattered.

The rebels liked to wedge themselves into these little pockets of nothingness, making it difficult to find them and once they were found, even more difficult to pin them in place to be destroyed. If there were planetary sentients, at least the Empire could leverage the population against the rebels, one way or another.

"We are at a point of move and counter-move. Dejarik14, on a galactic scale," thought Solo. But pinned them we have, here. Now. It would be foolish, criminal, even, to fail here.

It would take all this day and most of the night to get the large, yet cumbersome, AT-AT's15 to this ridge, and most of tomorrow to get over it. There wasn't a pass for miles around, which is precisely why the rebels chose this piece of rock to dig in. He could call in a barrage from Star Destroyers, but the ground was laced with solid and deep cave systems. The rebels were dug in deep and strong. There wasn't much vegetation with which to hide his specialized infiltration troops, and without knowing what was knocking out the ships, he couldn't call in air support. He was stuck in an old-fashioned ground war, like right out of the holos. He would have to read up on his history, from when people actually fought like this to see if he could apply any techniques to his situation.

Luckily for the Empire, Solo was an excellent historian.

 **3**

Falling back was something the Rebel Alliance excelled in. No equipment was left behind to betray the new secret weapon. There were very few raw recruits, and the 73rd was extremely selective of new talent, so there had been no deserters, fall-outs, runaways, or the like. It took a certain type of individual to hang out under the Empire's nose, reporting back situation reports and shooting only if discovered.

In a history unknown to most of the regular troopers, the 73rd traced its lineage to the old Clone Army of the Republic16. The 73rd Reconnaissance Troop was formed during the Clone Wars and fought under General Ki-Adi-Mundi17. After Order 6618 caused the deaths of the Jedi, the formation of the Empire, and eventually, the disbandment of the clones, those in the 73rd vowed to never support the Empire they had helped create. Just because they followed the order, did not mean they had to like it. In a stolen Republic Dreadnaught19, they hid in Hutt Space20, running odd smuggling or security missions to keep their new employers at bay, waiting for the time to avenge their beloved, yet betrayed General.

Years passed, and they replaced the fallen in their ranks with outsiders, non-clones, but they did make contact with forces rebelling against the Empire. By the time they learned of a greater rebellion, the clones21, with their DNA life cycle doubled in speed, were old men, unable to see their mission through to the end. They instilled instead their values, objectives, and most importantly, fighting abilities to the newcomers, who maintained the Republic designated unit number in remembrance.

The Rebel Alliance 73rd weren't special forces by any stretch of the imagination, but they also weren't regular line infantry, like those goons in Twilight Company22. Troopers in the 73rd could act autonomously in small teams if need be. They didn't need the direct support of other squads or even teams.

"We already have to go out? But we just settled in here," complained one of the new recruits, obviously uncaring as to her future reputation. Haz didn't even know her name yet. He just knew she filled the spot in his team that was left open after Meik Haule's death two weeks ago. Koreen, Loreen, something like that.

"Loren, shut your mouth, you green nerf pile," instigated Traynor, "the bucketheads are coming over the ridge and we need to know where they are going to concentrate. Of course we already have to go out."

"Both of you shut it," snapped Segeant Yirgen, "before I have both of you transferred to 497th Paymaster Company."

"Threaten me with a good time," mumbled Traynor, trying to get a rise out of the Sergeant.

"You're lucky we need people right now," said Yirgen, not taking the bait. "Listen Merlo, your team has a mission. Get them under control, then join me in the large hall for the team leader brief," he said almost over his shoulder as he rushed away.

"Got it Sarge," said Merlo, stifling laughter. He was new to the team leader position but had been part of the team for a while and understood the personal foibles that came with being in charge of someone like Traynor. "Hey guys, can I trust you won't turn the new kid to Bantha fodder while I'm gone?"

"Yeah, Corporal," Haz said, adding extra sarcasm to the word 'corporal' for effect. "We''ll get her situated and supplied for a recon and we can figure the rest out when you get back."

"Good. I'll see you guys soon," Merlo said, pulling on his coat.

It was especially cold in the cave system despite the warmth of the rest of the planet. The environmental control units weren't exactly on the priority list when they occupied the planet, so the Rebels would just have to tough it out. The 14th Infantry Brigade was in overall control of the planetary defense, which wasn't especially a good thing. The 14th was notorious for going out of their way to prove how tough they were, often drawing the planetary engagements that seemed to have the worst environmental conditions. The 14th's commander, Colonel Depointe tended to favor the Mobile Infantry units attached to his Brigade as well, giving deferential treatment to their men. The 17th Mobile Infantry Company even had their own cook!

Life could be worse for the 73rd, though. Being directly within the hierarchy of the Rebel Alliance, the 73rd tended to be steadily supplied with good weapons, food, and equipment. Others, like Twilight Company, had to make do with what they could scrounge. Haz even heard they recruited on planets they occupied and hadn't been paid in months! That was no way to fight a revolution. Favoritism of Alliance controlled troops was evident with the arrival of the MGMAVs. Although quite cumbersome, the new weapon systems could come in handy on isolated scouts where detection would often lead to an armored counter recon response from the Empire.

"Or," thought Haz, remembering the action from earlier in the day, "when the Empire has air support."

"Alright Loren," Haz started, knowing Traynor would never initiate a conversation with a recruit on purpose, "you ever been on a scout team before?"

"I've been on scouts when I was with the 17th," she said defensively.

"Well at least she's not totally raw," thought Haz. Looking at Traynor, he could see the older man had a bit of relief in his face as well. Still, it didn't placate either of them.

"That's not what he asked," shot Traynor, "'a scout' is not the same as 'a recon.'"

Haz followed. "A 'scout' is a simple range outside the trench to find where the bad guys are," he explained, "a 'recon' is much more in depth. We need to find where they are, what unit they are part of, what weapons they have, the type of perfume their commander wears, just for good measure."

"I can hold my own," Loren replied, "just point me in the right direction."

She seemed to concede that she needed help, which visibly eased Traynor's mind. Recruits that 'knew' everything already were a recipe for disaster. Every seasoned trooper in the 73rd had seen that type of recruit come and go, usually going in a coffin if there was enough of them left to be retrieved. If Loren was opening her mind enough for input, that meant she would live long enough to learn what not to do.

"First, we need the small packs, not the massive rucks we've been carrying all week. We need survival rations, not gourmet meals. We only bring one vaporator per two troopers, so no need to carry extra water. Ammunition and optical enhancers are what are essential for you. I'll be carrying the MGMAV, Merlo has the long-range Communicator pack, and Traynor has the thermal detonator launcher23. Unless you are a sniper or something then take lots of A280 clips for everyone, "said Haz.

"No way she's a sniper," quipped Traynor jealously.

"And what if I am," asked Loren.

"No way she's a sniper," he repeated.

"Are you?" Asked Haz.

"No," said Loren, "but I could be."

"I knew she wasn't a sniper," said Traynor, relieved he wasn't proven wrong.

"We need a sniper though, Traynor," said Haz, "could you be a sniper because you're a good shot or because you just could be?"

"I'm a great shot," replied Loren, "I've always been a great shot."

"Well let's run over to the range and see," said Haz, looking at Traynor, who looked worriedly at Loren.

Traynor had always been strangely jealous of snipers, to the point of anger. Haz hoped Traynor wouldn't give up on Loren right away if she did prove to be as good as she said.

The range in the cave system was simply a long, thin tunnel, hollowed out with a single pass of the tunneling droid. The firing point was almost in the access cave which ran perpendicular to the range, making it an awkward firing position when people were moving determinedly through the cave system.

Loren drew a E-17d from the armorer at the range and proceeded to easily take down the 250 meter, 500 meter, and the 1500 meter targets in quick succession. The only reason there wasn't a further target was because the droid had been retasked to dig out a new medical bay when the Star Destroyer dropped into the Solar System. Loren continued to hit the 1500 meter target time and again, often moving position and stance, as if to show Traynor how a target should be treated.

"See?" Loren said, a little too smugly even for Haz's taste. "I could be a sniper."

"Yes, you could," said Haz. He grudgingly added "well, we do need a sniper on the team."

The armorer had Loren turn over her issue A280, sign out the E-17d24 as her primary weapon, and issued her several clips of ammunition.

"That thing uses the same ammo clips as the E-1125, so if you get into a Stormtrooper supply point, be sure to refill," advised the armorer.

"Will do," she answered, delicately cradling and lightly rubbing the new rifle, as though it were a lover.

"If we get that close to the bucket heads, a sniper will be less than useless," Traynor almost yelled. "At any rate, we shouldn't even come that close to the Imperial lines."

 **4**

"Commander Solo, what is the reason for the delay of my victory?" Asked the small holo-projection of Moff Raythe26. "I have several other important operations in progress and I cannot allow you to fail a mission so simple as routing a single rebel infantry brigade."

Solo would have cringed if he were not being recorded.

"Sir there has been a set back, a set back which I have already reported to Stormtrooper Command, and will be resolved quickly," Solo replied, hoping he sounded more optimistic than hopeful.

"I hope so for your sake, Solo. My report of the initial assault tells me you have lost over a dozen landing ships, along with the Stormtroopers inside. Stormtroopers are quite replaceable, but it takes time and effort to do so. Even more so true for armored landing craft," said Raythe.

Solo hated the way senior commanders worried more about ship losses than Stormtrooper losses. A good Stormtrooper was a much more valuable asset than a ship. Especially Stormtroopers he had trained directly. And his 2nd Regiment had lost nearly 1,000 men before they even touched the ground.

To distinguish Stormtroopers that had passed his rigorous training regime, he allowed their armor to be marked with green stripes on the helmet, arms, and shoulders. For this, they called his legion Solo's Green Legion, not because they were new or untested. He knew the armor marking practice had fallen out of favor with Imperial Command almost as soon as the first Stormtrooper took the place of the last Clone Trooper. They were his troops, though, and he could decorate them as he pleased.

"Your operation is only one of dozens. Your legion is only one of thousands. I can throw a code cylinder from where I now stand and hit thirty officers that would take your place in an instant. If you cannot succeed, you will be replaced, and be sure, your next assignment will make you long for latrine duty when you were a cadet."

"I am personally seeing to the losses, Moff. Walkers are nearly at my location and I have sent Scout Troopers to find the exact location of the rebel fortifications. Do I still have use of the _Dauntless'_ gun batteries for preparatory fires?" Asked Solo.

"Yes, only if you stop losing my ships," retorted Raythe. "I have an entire sector to look after. How am I to do so if all of my landing ships are destroyed on that useless rock?"

"There will be no more losses of landing craft. The walkers were landed beyond the range of the rebel weapons that hit our landers, and the remaining three regiments of Stormtroopers are being ferried to the battle by speeder."

"Good, Commander. I don't think your reputation could survive a loss against a small rebel force after the revelation of having a high-level rebel in your family," said Raythe, guessing a little extra fire under Solo would do the man well. He knew Solo had no relation to that rebel, yet he also knew it irked Solo to be reminded his family's name was so tarnished.

The Solos of Coruscant had been there for so long, it was unlikely there were even holographic evidence of their Corellian origins. They were a very distinguished and important family, the owners of manufacturing plants, banks, and even tenements deep within Coruscant. They had been loyal to the Emperor when he was still known as Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine of the now defunct Galactic Republic. Despite this, every Solo of Coruscant was hauled in and interrogated. Raythe felt what even amounted to compassion for the man.

The effect was evident. Solo visibly pushed back an angry response.

"There will be no more losses of landing craft," was all he could manage before cutting the holo feed. "The temerity of that man," Solo thought as he pounded a fist into the portable hologram projector.

"When the walkers get here, Captain, send them directly to the top of the ridge and begin bombardment of the rebel strongholds. The AT-ST's27 should go around the ridge and begin working the flanks of the rebel line. I am going to join the legion at the top now," Solo announced. Directing an assault made him feel alive.

He was no longer in the gray gaber-wool of an Imperial Fleet Officer. He was now wearing the Stormtrooper armor he had customized for this exact need. Most legionary commanders wouldn't join an assault, but Solo loved it. He truly couldn't understand the muted and hermetically sealed space battles the Navy lived for. They were so impersonal and ineffective, in Solo's opinion. Ground assaults truly allowed Imperial men to show rebel scum what they were made of. This was how the Empire came to power, in the dirt and sand and mud of a thousand different worlds, not in the deep, cold vacuum of space.

His personal armor was a dark grey on his torso, much like his officer's uniform, with the black body suit worn under just like any Stormtrooper in the galaxy. His leg armor was black, the specially modified Death Trooper28 armor, with motorized shunts to allow his muscles to operate at a higher and more demanding efficiency. The specialized green stripes his personal Stormtroopers wore also adorned the length of his arms, across his chest, and in lines on his helmet. His commanders pauldron, although not needed due to his differentiating armor, was the same jade green as the stripes, lined with black and grey. His helmet was slightly modified, an amalgam of a Stormtrooper helmet and a traditional Mandalorian29 helmet, given the extra targeting and communications arrays installed for his battlefield awareness.

Solo pulled on his helmet and hopped on his speeder bike, which was a short-nosed version of the Scout _74-Z Speeder Bike30_. Through his helmet's enhanced vision, he could see the ideal path to the top of the ridge. As he set the auto-pilot, he began scrolling through reports of the initial assault.

"Yes, like Raythe said, a rebel Brigade is here, so almost equal manpower as us," thought Solo. Equal numbers, yes, but quality, absolutely not. He read that the left flank was already locked in combat, precisely where the mountain pass allowed armored vehicles to easily cross the ridge. He also saw, disturbingly, that several AT-ST walkers had already been knocked out. Although not as tough as their larger AT-AT cousins, the scout walkers had proven they could take a beating. To lose so many so early did not bode well.

As he zoomed past Stormtroopers working their way to the top of the ridge he could make out many with the green stripes.

"Good," he thought, reminded of his reason for optimism," these men will break that line like it is nothing.

Arriving at the top of the ridge, a quick scan verified the reports. Large cave networks defended by entrenched infantry and stationary cannon. Off to his far left he could see an engagement had already been sparked, with red energy bolts sizzling through the air. Smoke and dust obscured some of the fighting, but using his binocular optic enhancement, he could see the three AT-ST walkers already laid over on their sides just over the crest of the ridge near the pass. Another was coming through the pass as he saw a blinding flash in the rebel line. A rush of superheated air led a contrail from the AT-ST, already falling and burning, back to a section of rebel trench. Solo could see rebel troops scrambling back into the cave system, with one struggling to manage a large boxy bulk with a tube attached.

Solo took several recordings of the unidentified weapon and sent them immediately to his intelligence center, hoping they would have an answer for what it was. He was suspicious he had just seen what had taken down his landing craft.

If he could have it identified, he could work up an effective counter strategy.

"Sir," he heard the intel Lieutenant meekly speak through his earpiece, "I actually think I know what that weapon is."

 **5**

More dust, more smoke, more heat was all Haz could make out. After a sustained period of firing missile after missile, he was beginning to feel a sense of numbness, mostly from the intense vibration on his skull each time the MGMAV launched. Luckily, he was out of rocket ammunition and the team had to retreat to the cave. Four AT-ST's, a command shuttle far in the distance, and a dud rocket wasn't a bad personal score for the first combat trial of the MGMAV, not to mention the first two salvos targeting the armored landing shuttles. The Empire had figured out that this Rebel line deserved a little more stand-off than usual, but there were still some careless pilots in their Navy.

It was possible that the strategists sitting safely at computer terminals on the Star Destroyer escort ship didn't realize just how effective the missile system was. Or care. The Empire was notorious for throwing bodies at a Rebel problem, letting the natural attrition of battle slowly wear down the Rebel troops. Haz was sure they would learn soon enough.

Too bad nobody realized the pounding the operator's head would take after a few shots.

Moving deeper into the cool cave system felt medicinal to Haz's head. Pouring cold, freshly vaporated water down his back cleared up any discomfort immediately.

"Hey guys I'm going to turn in the MGMAV to be sure that dud missile wasn't the command unit frying. Remember this is the first field test they've ever had," announced Haz after a moment, glancing at Traynor.

"Sure, Haz go ahead. We'll stay in the squad bay until we know what's next," said Merlo.

"I'll help you take it," said Loren, standing up from the bench.

"She'll fit in just fine," thought Haz as she grabbed the command unit. Indeed, she was already trying to help in every little detail to help the team.

As they were briefed on the mission earlier, she began parceling rations and ammunition into the lightweight combat packs each member would carry. She even managed to find a replacement pack for the one Merlo had torn when he stumbled on the way down the ridge during the retreat to the caves. Even Traynor was warming up to her; She had let him take a few shots with the sniper rifle.

The effect of the fight had been restorative to him despite the headache from the MGMAV. Merlo, ever cautious, had paused at each bend of trench to ensure no enemy had infiltrated. Traynor being Traynor, ignored the trenches altogether and made a mad rush to the designated firing point. Loren simply followed Merlo, keeping to his heels, yet Haz could see his preponderance of caution was beginning to grate her.

Haz usually was the middle track between Traynor and Merlo. Not overly cautious in moving to position, but not suicidal either. Today, though, he was having trouble keeping up. The weight of the MGMAV and the lack of water made sure that all he could do was try to keep up. When he reached the firing point, Traynor already had the spare missile out of his bag and was scanning the horizon looking for targets.

Too tired to complain about the treatment of the spare round, Haz set up the MGMAV and went to work.

"Is it like that every time," she stated more than asked Haz.

"What do you mean?"

"Well the Stormtroopers were close enough for me to hear their feet scraping the stones on the ground. I could have sworn I could hear them breathing. No, that they could hear ME breathing," she said as she struggled to balance her long-rifle and the command unit while walking over the undulating cave floors.

"Then yeah," affirmed Haz, "it is. We weren't joking when we said we get close to them and just sit there constantly. I wasn't even joking about knowing the perfume of their commander. We could smell Vamolean Pearls all day. Merlo still can't stand the stuff."

"What was the need for a sniper then," she asked. "I'm going to get my rifle back. We were too close to use this."

"Look. Soon enough we'll go out on a real recon, where we don't have to lug the rocket system around and then you'll see that that sniper rifle will come in handy. If the Stormtroopers are pouring reinforcements on us, then reaching out a long distance and taking them down before they get close will be our only chance."

"I guess," Loren said under her breath. Getting a soldier used to a new weapon takes time. They know, trust, and often love their rifles, so when you just swap it out, there is a feeling of loss and uncertainty. Haz was sure this was what she was feeling. He felt the same when he had to turn in his A280 for the MGMAV, only to be given a dinky pistol for self-defense. He half hoped the MGMAV would have a malfunction, just so he could carry his rifle again.

"Well," said the tech at the armory, "it is the command unit."

"Broken?"

"Nope, not quite," said the tech, "but it does need to be recalibrated. Problem is, I have no idea of how to do it. I'll send over for a Brigade tech to come take a look."

"And how long is that going to take," asked Loren.

"No clue. Leave the MGMAV and I'll give you a rifle, Haz," said the tech. With a smirk, he added, "only one problem. This is the only rifle I have left for you."

Why he was smiling, Haz couldn't figure out. The rifle was the oldest hunk of metal in the galaxy. It belonged in a museum somewhere on the Outer Rim. Longer than even Loren's E-17d, the rifle looked like it had a wooden grip and stock, with flimsisteel tape wrapped around the front exhaust port, holding the upper and lower parts together. Wood and tape! Be careful what you wish for, Haz, was all that he could hear his brain say.

"What in all the planets is that thing," asked Loren, horrified.

"I have no idea," said Haz.

"It's a DC-15A31! Are you kidding? The Clones used these to save the entire galaxy from the droid armies," explained the tech.

"Yeah, about 30 years ago. And they had Jedi in case the thing failed! Does it even work?"

"Yeah! I mean, I think so. I mean, take it to the range and check. At any rate, it is the only rifle I've got to give. You can keep the pistol just in case." Responded the tech.

Loren grabbed the rifle and started off towards the range. "OK, we will."

"What are you doing? I can't keep this thing," yelled Haz, chasing after her.

"Well," she began, "I turned in my A280 at the range just hours ago, remember? Well swap it out for this."

Haz grimaced at the thought of convincing the armorer to exchange a junk pile like this for a brand new BlasTech A280.

As if she read his mind, Loren said, "Hey, if he won't exchange it, we'll just grab it and run, leave this DC-15 in a forced exchange."

Haz smiled, " Oh he won't like that at all."

"Hey," said Loren, with a mischievous grin, "what's the worst that can happen?"

 **6**

"How would they have gotten their hands on a prototype missile guidance system?" Asked Commander Reymun Solo, knowing the answer before he even finished his sentence.

"Sir, we know Merr-Sonn has been working on the upgrade to the PLX-2 missile system. They do have an exclusive contract with the Empire, but they are based in the Unknown Regions. Businesses operate out there to reduce the likelihood of corporate espionage, but it also makes it less likely for them to report a security breach."

"Which is why I have been advocating the Empire send a security overseer to each and every factory and corporate office in the galaxy," thought Solo. While the ISB has been nosing around within the Empire's ranks, a perfected weapon system with the range and power to halt an entire planetary invasion was placed directly into Rebel hands. This breach of security would be in Solo's report to the Moff.

His report would have to wait, though. Live in the moment or die in the moment. Especially since a lone figure on a ridgeline wearing specialized armor on a modified scout bike was beginning to draw light fire. He was still several kilometers from the trench system, yet it didn't stop rebel marksmen from attempting a long-range shot.

Solo had personally met Stormtrooper First-Class Henrik Grer, the famous Scout Sniper, who had made three confirmed kills at over six thousand meters using an E-web with a scope system attached to it. The ingenuity put Henrik in the record books, and the man reached legendary status in the Stormtrooper Corps. Not that Solo thought the rebels' skills could come anywhere close to a Stormtrooper such as Grer, but Solo wanted to get into cover nonetheless. It was time to begin the assault in earnest.

He could see several large cave openings on the extreme left of the rebel line, with heavy rock outcroppings. One more large opening a little further down the line, almost in the center of the rebel trench system was where the rocket team had retreated to when he first reached the ridge crest. He designated several teams to cover that entrance to keep further rocketeers at bay.

Beyond that, large chunks of rock and deep, thick trenches were all that made up the rebel line. He could bombard that section of trench easily, but there was plenty of time for defenders to scurry deep into the access tunnels before _Dauntless'_ batteries could deliver their payloads, and plenty of time after the salvo hit home to take up positions again.

Unfortunately for the Stormtroopers on the planet, Moff Raythe did not drill his gunners on _Dauntless_ in planetary bombardment nearly enough. This would keep the ground forces from being able to get too close to the target before the bombardment was launched. The risk of destroying his own attacking forces was too great to rely on the Star Destroyer with any guaranteed results. This was the result of capital ship Captains coming up from cadet all the way through to the top as Naval officers, focusing on large ship to ship engagements.

A fire control officer in an orbital battery had multiple data points to consider upon firing at a ground target. Speed of the ship, speed of planetary orbit, density and weather within planetary atmosphere, and power of the weapons system firing were only a few examples with which they needed to contend. A mistake in even one variable had the chance of being catastrophic to a Stormtrooper on the ground.

The reality, one which the Imperial Navy did not like to accept, was that ship to ship engagements were very rare. Even during the entirety of the Clone Wars, capital ships engaging each other accounted for only 7.6% of all recorded combat, according to official Republic records in the Naval Archives. Ship to ground combat accounted for 12.1% of all combat, and full ground combat equated to 43.5% of all engagements, even if you were to exclude the operations where a ship landed troops, then engaged another ship. Why the statisticians working in Imperial Intelligence didn't circulate their results more widely, Solo didn't know, but the waste of training opportunities made his job that much harder.

Still, Solo called in a bombardment on the exposed portion of the line. At least it would keep the sentries from getting any sleep. At best, the trench might be reduced and filled with rock, exposing any defenders to Imperial fire.

Beyond that, he would need to keep his options within the Legion. He could not expect Raythe would allow TIE fighters or bombers to be sacrificed to soften the line, and any heavy support was still several hours away. Luckily, the solar cycle was fairly short on Pautrel. The smallness of the planet meant a faster rotation, and it being winter on this portion of the planet, the longer night could be used to move in troops.

Hopefully, the rebels here would have no night vision devices. At several of the bases demolished in the days following the Death Star's loss, evidence of night vision optics had been found. No rebel troops captured in battle in this sector had any on them, though. It seems the night could be owned by the Empire.

Solo would order his Stormtroopers in close to the lines, same as the Sith were notorious for during the days of the Mandolorian Wars. The shocking surprise of hundreds of men rising from the dust meters in front of a supposedly secure line would cause panic and failure in the rebel psyche. He didn't have force-users or lightsabers, but he had the best modern weaponry and the best trained troops.

That would have to do for now.

 **7**

Another orbital strike was incoming. In the rising light, a strange, tell-tale green pall cast shadows across the landscape, slowly growing longer on the ground as the brightening bolts of light crashed through the atmosphere and came closer to the ground. The impacts rattled the loose ground surrounding the team, with the odd chunk of stone or pebble falling to rest nearby. In just a few seconds it was a still night again. Haz's team was too far forward to worry about being disintegrated by the huge blasts of energy contained in a Star Destroyer's main armament, but the effect could still break the spirit of any seasoned veteran.

The randomness of being at the receiving end of heavy weaponry was what broke troops. Even a tenth of a degree on the aiming mechanism from the distance of space would equal a stray round a thousand meters away from the rest at ground level. It was too much for some to bear. The jumpy Sergeant Major was the first mental casualty. Already showing signs of strain, he snapped during the first bombardment. His fear was infectious, causing several recruits to run screaming deep into the caves as well.

For the sake of the 73rd, he was relieved of his weaponry, rank, and authority and taken to the Medbay. Some of the more callous, including Traynor, called it the "coward's walk." Every veteran had seen it before, yet most were reticent to apply the term 'coward' to those broken troops. They weren't sure they wouldn't one day be there too.

Since dusk, reports had been coming in from across the line of Stormtroopers flowing towards the trenches. They were obviously going to use cover of the night, along with their superior night vision, to swing the fight in their favor. Too bad for the Empire, the Rebels had night vision too. Every scout trooper of the 73rd Combat Reconnaissance Troop had a set, and every recon team available was set in front of the trenches in a screen.

'Screen' was the term Haz hated most. It amounted to 'early warning system.' More like 'speed bump' if you asked Traynor. It allowed the regular line infantry a heads up when an attack came. If a scout was successful, their emplacement would be in a place the Stormtroopers walked right by, unmolested. If they were anything less than successful, well, they had better have plenty of ammo.

Haz had plenty of ammo. Merlo had placed them in a pitiful position. Squeezed between two large boulders, with a natural depression to lay in, they were well protected and could view the entire sector. It was also the most obvious point for the Stormtroopers to want to take for the same reason. Haz, Merlo, Traynor, and to a lesser extent, Loren, had been fighting off small bands of infiltrators half the night.

Loren couldn't bring the unwieldy and terribly inefficient sniper-rifle to bear in the close quarter battles that they were encountering.

"Just wait for a real recon, huh? What do you call this?" Loren asked Haz.

Without the MGMAV system, Haz felt lighter, like a real soldier again. His A280, Loren's original rifle, had been liberated from the Armorer and was being put to good use.

"Just remember what the armorer said. We're getting you more ammo, then you can use the E-17 all you want!" Replied Haz, trying to lighten the mood, while also subtly reminding Loren to gather clips for her specialized sniper rifle from fallen Stormtroopers.

At first the Stormtroopers were walking in a single long line across the entire front. They were surely under the assumption that the Empire controlled the night phase of the planet. Through the 73rd's models of artificial light filtering devices, the white armor of the Stormtroopers glowed an iridescent yellow, making it doubly easy to identify their advance. Flowing along easy approach paths, the Stormtroopers found Haz's team very early in the battle. Several waves pushed close to the team, but the support fire from the Rebels' main trench line afforded them enough cover to stay where they were.

Traynor's expert use of the thermal detonator launcher integrated to his rifle below the barrel of his A280 caused several groups of fanatical assaults to be stopped cold immediately. The Stormtroopers were now staying well short of the boulders the team was tucked behind, but the scraping sound of entrenching worker droids told that they weren't giving too much space to the Rebels. Even Loren realized it was only the close proximity of their enemy that kept an orbital strike from leveling their position.

With only about two hours of darkness left in the night, the screening reconnaissance teams began filtering back towards the trench. Odds were that daybreak would bring a last stand. Teams across the full breadth of the line were reporting Stormtroopers with green stripes on their armor. Markings on Stormtrooper armor were rare enough to fear that their presence meant specialized or elite troopers. Specialized or elite, when dealing with the Empire, often equaled fanatical or worse.

The light rattle of smaller pebbles in an ominous, regular cadence announced the arrival of yet another obstacle to escape. The distinct ground shaking footsteps of AT-AT's were felt long before they were heard, or in this case seen. It was unknown exactly where the behemoths would strike the line, with the massive ridge covering their approach.

"Come in 3-G-2. Team 3-G-2, Merlo can you read me, ol' buddy?" Asked Sergeant Yirgen over the muted comm.

"I'm still here 1-G-2," whispered Merlo, unsure of how close any enemy still were.

"3-G-2, mission follows. It's no secret there are AT-AT's on the other side of that ridge. You are to get eyes on the walkers and report their movements, so we don't have any nasty surprises come sunup."

"Got it, 1-G-2. You realize it will be light soon, and we will be stuck once we are out there, right?"

"It's a terrible situation, but we need eyes on the heavies," explained Yirgen. "At any rate, we have received word a relief wing will arrive from fleet command after noon today. You just need to hold out until then. Keep us alive now, and we will keep you alive later."

"Easy for him to say from those caves," grumbled Traynor.

"We are on mission, then 1-G-2," Merlo reported, releasing the comm button he said to Traynor, "for a Corellian looking for a blood-stripe, you certainly do complain a lot."

"Not complaining, just stating a fact."

"At least I don't have to carry that MGMAV over the ridge again," said Haz, "it about killed me the first time across."

"Haz, if there are AT-AT's as close as they feel, I'm pretty sure we are going to regret not having that thing," said Merlo.

Looking up at the ridge, knowing the climb ahead, another flash of green began to fill the dark sky. Haz knew in his heart he would eat his words, but he had no idea how badly they would taste.

 **8**

It was not a victorious night, but it was effective.

1st Regiment of Foot, all green stripe Stormtroopers to a man, had grabbed the ammo belt of the rebels and were dug in within thirty meters of the cave outcrops on the left. 3rd Regiment of Foot wasn't as successful on the right, but they were dug in and supported to the rear by 4th Regiment of Foot, the other fully green stripe staffed regiment. With the AT-AT lumbering up the ridge on the right, two full Stormtrooper regiments would easily take the rebel trench. 2nd Regiment was holding back on the far side of the ridge, to be used as reserve only in extreme circumstances. They had been bloodied badly on the initial wave of the assault.

The final requirement to receive Commander Solo's green stripes was to take part in a spearhead assault, and 2nd had fulfilled all requirements but the last. Now 700 Stormtroopers of the 2nd Regiment of Foot would not earn their stripes. Their brother Stormtroopers would ensure they would be avenged.

This was a close in battle. Three more scout walkers had been taken down by the missile launchers, now verified as a knock-off Merr-Sonn PLX-3LR prototype. An example was seized intact during 1st Regiment's push on the left from a scout team that had lived long enough to be convinced to teach the Commander how the equipment worked. They had not been easy to convince.

The technology was ingenious. Two more damaged units were seized, one damaged during combat, the other destroyed by its operator just before the 3rd took her. She had revealed the MGMAV, as the rebels called their version, was a stolen copy direct from Alliance Engineering. Since the other team had already taught Solo all there was to know about the missile, she was superfluous to needs, and sent in stun cuffs to ISB along with the two broken MGMAVs.

Solo would keep the operating example to test for himself. Ammunition for the weapon was scant, and he already ordered all units to scour every crevice for more, or for hidden teams. He knew from prisoners that rebel morale was high in the caves, but if he could demonstrate their secret weapon had been negated, Solo was sure they would come streaming from the caves with hands up.

That opportunity was now. The huge walker on the left could now peek over the pass and was well within range of the cave openings. It began choking the entrance to the caves with deep scarlet bolts of energy, causing some of the outcrops to collapse and fill the rebel trenches. Solo feared the onslaught would cause the 1st some injury to front line Stormtroopers, but it was too late now. He could see the right flank AT-AT three-quarters up the ridge, looking like an over-heated Bantha painfully climbing the Great Pyramid on Yavin IV.

He ordered the walkers to only expose themselves as needed to fire over the ridge. He realized the right flank walker would need to show far more of itself than he would have liked due to the extreme gradient it was climbing, but again, the risk was calculated. He needed direct firepower, and he needed it now.

From his vantage halfway up the front of the ridge, Solo could see the scorched rock on the trench line from the previous night's orbital bombardment. He was correct when he believed the effect would be minor, partially from the gunnery skill (or lack thereof) of the _Dauntless_ crew, and partially from the ebb and flow of rebel soldiers whenever a salvo would shriek in from atmosphere. They were certainly experienced at running from superior firepower, Solo conceded. Once the AT-AT peeked over the crest, though, he could fire into those nerfholes, allowing the Stormtroopers to close with and take the trenches a meter at a time if need be.

The cacophony of battle had now reached crescendo. If not for his helmet's installed smart-ears which filtered out most of the blasts and shots, yet allowed spoken reports and commands, he would be as utterly confused as he was sure every other infantryman was on the ground. That was all ground battle was. Pure confusion. Confuse the enemy more than you, and you have won the battle.

With that thought, Solo realized it was now his turn to be confused. From the central cave opening, the tell-tale flash of a MGMAV pierced the dust kicked up from the battle. Almost like a holovid sporting event slowed down for analysis, he felt he could see the rocket leave the tongue of flame, a black insect, retreating from a child testing a piece of mag-glass in the sunshine. Then emitting its own fire, the projectile picked up speed towards its intended target. The only thing in its path was—the AT-AT.

Could the rocket pierce the walker's armor? Solo knew not much could. He had once seen one engulfed in an orbital strike, and continue to walk on towards its objective, still firing, its crew protected perfectly. This rocket, however, was not a rebel starship. It had proven itself to be a killer. The corpses of the AT-ST Scout walkers were torn open as though superheated then thrown into cold space vacuum, just ripped open from every seam. They were nearly unrecognizable, if not for the almost comically twisted legs sticking in wild positions, as if a psychotic child was playing bored with an old toy.

The AT-AT operators seemed not to notice the small fireball quickly approaching the command pod. It struck on the upper rear quarter of the pod, shearing off the right ventral gun. Solo waited for the ensuing explosion, groan of metal, and inevitable collapse, but it never came. The AT-AT survived. Damaged, but survived.

The crew must have felt the impact because the monstrous head drooped slightly, slacked fire, then with renewed vigor raised and began pouring fire directly along the path of the rocket's contrail. The damage looked much worse than it must have been. The green paint normally covering the entire command section had been blackened around a large, bright metallic scar from which the side cannon now dangled, suspended by stray wiring harnesses. The walker's fire was accurate to a point.

Solo could not have been prouder. His Green Legion had proven themselves again. Through his enhanced vision, he could see the target of the AT-AT melt into nothing. They were using the over-charge on the cannons, knowing they had to knock out the rocketeers at all costs. Keying into the crew's frequency, he could hear them chattering as though they were only taking part in an exercise, nonplussed. One of them was badly injured in the large cockpit, but unless you were in there, or like Solo, listening in, there was no evidence of any damage to the crew.

The big walkers could take the hit. Now was the time to press the attack. Solo gave the order.

 **9**

"It's coming directly at us! We can see it just crossing the ridgeline now," screamed Haz into the comm. Keeping silent at this point was a useless precaution, as the sound of battle combined with the AT-AT's mechanical groaning just overhead made sonic detection unlikely. The team had scrambled almost to the crest of the ridge but had been spotted by Stormtroopers shortly after they settled in for defense. Traynor was no longer firing off the miniature thermal detonators from his launcher. He had been hit and soon lost consciousness. Merlo took what must have been a blast from a heavy canon shortly after Traynor was wounded, because no trace of him except the odd bit of charred equipment could be found.

Haz missed the report that two MGMAV shots had failed to halt the AT-AT on the far right of the Rebel line, so he still had hope that a shirrhawk-eyed operator would take down the approaching walker nearest them. He hoped in vain.

Imperial techs had isolated the frequency which the MGMAV command units communicated and could now trace the few working units the Rebels still had. Whenever a yellow tracking circle would light a target, the Imperials directed an unholy barrage of every weapon they had at the general area of the signal's origin. The MGMAV's advantage had lasted only one single day. Several TIE Fighters were now strafing the caves and trenches of the Rebel line, forcing the troops to take deeper cover, and allowing the Stormtroopers to edge ever closer to the command post.

One TIE Haz could see was streaming greasy smoke behind it yet was still coming in for another gun run. The screeching sound that normally accompanied a TIE Fighter now also had a low baritone thump; a mechanical issue the pilot was ignoring. As the TIE turned into position, the right solar array collapsed into the center ball, visibly collapsing the transparisteel screen that housed the pilot. It dived violently down and left, striking the ground with a blast that Haz could feel the heat of, even from his removed position. Its wingmate, however, continued its run, strafing the length of the Rebel lines.

Haz could see there were few defenders left, yet still he managed to report the two thick lines of Stormtroopers advancing. He was most worried about the walker that was now passing his position. It still could not fire directly into the access tunnels to the trench because of the angle it was forced to adhere to during its climb, and now, descent. The main cannon array under the chin of the command pod couldn't elevate to bring fire to bear on the line but was nearing a less restrictive spur descending the ridge.

"It's time to leave," he told Loren, who was busy shooting at targets far below. The Stormtroopers taking fire from their front must have been confused when their mates were being gunned down by accurate fire to the rear.

"Are we going to leave them here?" she asked, nodding her head at Traynor's now lifeless body and the small pile of burned equipment that was once Merlo. She was trained by the 17th Mobile Infantry, who would often lose dozens of fresh troops simply to retrieve a dead mate. With advantage of numbers the infantry had, they could pursue that technique if they wished, but for the 73rd, it was impossible.

"Not their ammo and grenades, everything else, just forget it," he said. They were in too precarious a situation the retrieve the night vision, but the extra weapon would come in handy. He stripped the belt of detonators off Traynor's chest while Loren slung her sniper weapon across her back, taking Traynor's rifle. "Good, Haz realized, "she understands how bad it is." He didn't have to keep being surprised by her actions, as she had proven herself to be a solid member of the team, but too many recruits had cycled through and cracked from or questioned the recon way of operating. She was a natural. He reminded her, if he was hit, to keep moving to the line, but keep updating the troops of enemy positions.

A continuous barrage of red blaster bolts wove their way between Haz and Loren as they moved steadily down the ridge. He hoped they were Imperial bolts, at least. After all this, to be mistaken for a Stormtrooper by some jumpy rookie would be perverse. Firing as they ran, they made it to the valley at the base of the ridge. They could still see the AT-AT, now setting up to fire on ground flat enough to shoot from.

As Haz approached a bend in a natural long depression, he turned the corner too late to realize the stretch of ground ahead was already occupied by an entire squad of green striped Stormtroopers. He managed to fire several shots as he fell back, yelling to Loren not to follow him. The Stormtrooper, also surprised by Haz's presence, unleashed a barrage of bolts from their E-11 rifles, but none noticed the small, blinking sphere that had landed within a rock pile.

The white flash of the thermal detonator burned Haz's boots and lower legs as though he had roasted them in a cooking fire. If not for Loren pulling him to the ground and shielding his eyes, he would have been blinded at best, or even disintegrated along with the Stormtrooper squad. As he lay there, trying to breath, he could feel himself being pulled to his feet.

With help, he made it several meters further down the natural wash before being dumped unceremoniously to the stone ground once more. Loren had encountered yet more Stormtroopers. This must have been their rally point, where they were to launch their attack on the trench from. There seemed to be hundreds. White and green and red flashes melted together in Haz's jumbled brain, trying to put together a reality that his consciousness could not handle.

Loren was firing madly, throwing thermal detonators, launching them further with Traynor's former launcher. Nothing she did seemed to check the volume of incoming fire. Haz could barely move, but he realized he could talk. And hear. His comm unit was alive with chatter, and he understood what he had to do, the only thing he could do in his condition.

He remembered that the flat, yet vibrant jade green of the AT-AT command pod looked odd on an Imperial vehicle. He thought only the Rebels had the personality to paint their ships. It was the last thought he had before he keyed the comm and began shouting to the voice on the other end.

 **10**

"Where did they get an entire Fleet from!?" shouted Solo at the small holographic image of the Captain in his palm. Moff Raythe may have been in command of the region, but Captain U'Belnn was the commander of his flagship. Localized defense supporting the invasion force fell directly to him. The fact that two _MC80 Battlecruisers32_ just dropped into the system with batteries firing immediately showed that U'Belnn had been sleeping on the job.

 _GR-75 Medium Transports33_ were launching from two other ships, probably _EF76 Nebulon-B_ _Escort Frigates,_ behind the _MC80_ defensive screen and under support fire aimed at the Imperial ground forces. The assigned TIE squadrons within the _Dauntless_ launched in defense, but the overwhelming rebel force was too much. Several TIEs were destroyed before they even left the launch bay, crippling the _Dauntless'_ ability to recover launched TIEs. Rebel snubfighters were working over the _Dauntless'_ shields and TIE accompaniment.

Solo wondered what he would say to Raythe when they had the opportunity to critique the losses from the campaign. Fourteen _Lambda T-4c's_ , seven AT-ST's, and one TIE Fighter could be directly attributed to Solo as lost under his command. Everything else, well, that was all Raythe.

Solo felt sickened, watching his hard-won victory slipping from his grasp under the intense bombardment from the rebel ships. The wounded AT-AT succumbed to the intense fire first, collapsing like a hunted creature to its side, adding to the dust choking the battlefield. He could see the 1st on the left become engulfed in the red energy blasts coming from orbit. Concentrated fire proved that there were plenty of rebels left in the caves and trenches, enough to call in the accurate fire from space. The observer directing the fire was precise, the gunners in the orbiting ships surgical. The rebels must have been practicing where the _Dauntless_ crew had not.

White armored figures dodged and weaved within the rock formations. Solo could see as one successful company of Stormtroopers-they must have been from the 3rd—reached the trenches on the far right of the line. The right AT-AT, now firing steadily, was targeting the nerfholes in the rear of the trench lines, where the rebels accessed the greater cave system. That is until a squadron of X-wings descended through the light cloud cover and into the dust bowl over the battlefield. Each small ship released a single proton torpedo and with four bright flashes and thunderclaps, the walker had collapsed.

Withering fire would pour from the access tunnels in the rear each time an Imperial figure would rush inside. The rebels had simply retreated to secondary positions.

Heavy orbital salvos walked along the Imperial line, breaking the resolve of the attackers and forcing them back to the ridge. The Imperial Green Legion had been reduced to a shell, now simply observers of the Escape from Pautrel. Because of the ineptitude of the Imperial Naval Officer Corps, an opportunity to pare the rebel ground fighting force further was squandered. The Empire would recover from this loss, but not in this system.

They would have to once again track the rebels to a new hideout. They were not as weak and scared as Solo believed even the day before. Here, they were showing their determination to stay alive. They also revealed the strength and skill of their forces. He could accept, grudgingly, that they had fought a fine defense, and looked forward to facing them again.

Next time, though, he vowed, they would not escape so easily.

 **Epilogue**

The 14th Mobile Infantry Brigade would be hailed as the heroes of the Battle of Pautrel. They would forever refuse to accept that they needed the Rebel Fleet to extricate them from certain defeat. The battle honor would be awarded to the 17th Mobile Infantry Company, for 'conspicuous gallantry in holding the line against determined and numerically superior Imperial assault while sustaining heavy losses.'

The 73rd received no commendations, accolades, or awards. The histories would record the battle as an inevitable victory from the start of the campaign. The opening shots of the battle would be attributed only to those in the caves and trenches, not to those exposed, far ahead of the lines, risking themselves to successfully test new weaponry. The holos would fail to recognize exactly how the Fleet's fire was so effective against the Stormtrooper formations, or who was directing the orbiting guns from within the thick of the battle.

Memories are convenient in that way. The gloom and misery of an event is often lost in its glory, footnoting or entirely forgetting those that truly shaped the battle.

As the overwhelming Rebel Fleet extracted the ground troops, the _Dauntless_ jumped through hyperspace to safety, abandoning the Green Legion to the dust and rocks of Pautrel.

Moff Raythe would not return to gather Solo or his legion, for fear that word would spread of the cowardice of his actions in the face of the enemy. He would report to Imperial Naval Command that all Imperials on the planet were brutally killed; executed by rebel terrorists. The veracity of an Imperial Moff's statements were beyond reproach and unquestionable, even by those aboard _Dauntless_ that had witnessed the events. They, after all, had aided in the Moff's actions.

The Rebel Alliance saved a Brigade but had lost yet another base. Habitable planets previously unused for hiding were becoming rarer as the war dragged on. Desperation was driving the Rebels to more uncomfortable planets and satellites, far from any space lanes for resupply, and far from being ideal for human habitation.

The 17th Brigade, along with its attached 73rd Combat Reconnaissance Troop, with Haz and Loren in tow, would find themselves soon stationed in the unlikeliest of places. Little in the means of local settlements and even less in the means of recreation, they nonetheless found the base a suitable rest and relaxation point. A simple place to calm one's mind and nerves after the brutal series of battles they had recently fought was comforting enough. The Alliance even brought Environmental Control Units this time.

They would enjoy the rest area called Echo Base. They would enjoy the peaceful planet Hoth34.

 **The End**

1 wiki/Onderon

2 wiki/22nd_infantry_division

3 wiki/PLX-2

4 wiki/Lambda-class_T-4a_shuttle

5 wiki/A280_blaster_rifle

6 wiki/Tantive_IV

7 wiki/E-Web_heavy_repeating_blaster_cannon

8 wiki/Corellia

9 wiki/Corellian_Security_Force

10 wiki/Star_Destroyer

11 wiki/Imperial_Security_Bureau

12 wiki/Datapad

13 wiki/Bothan_Space

14 wiki/Dejarik

15 wiki/All_Terrain_Armored_Transport

16 wiki/Grand_Army_of_the_Republic/Legends

17 wiki/Ki-Adi-Mundi

18 wiki/Order_66

19 wiki/Dreadnaught-class_heavy_cruiser

20 wiki/Hutt_Space

21 wiki/Clone_trooper

22 wiki/Sixty-First_Mobile_Infantry

23 wiki/Thermal_detonator

24 wiki/E-17d_sniper_rifle

25 wiki/E-11_blaster_rifle

26 wiki/Raythe

27 wiki/All_Terrain_Scout_Transport

28 wiki/Death_trooper

29 wiki/Mandalorian

30 wiki/74-Z_speeder_bike

31 wiki/DC-15_blaster_rifle

32 wiki/MC80_Home_One_type_Star_Cruiser

33 wiki/GR-75_medium_transport

34 wiki/Hoth


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